


Standing On Edge (Please Come Back Down)

by Krasimer



Category: LazyTown
Genre: And doesn't know how to words, Glanni didn't know that loving him was an option, Glanni is a little bitter about the missed-out on kisses, Glanni is not a happy person, Happy Ending, Love Confessions, M/M, No Healing Cock, Now with a chapter 2, Pre-Relationship, Suicidal depression isn't cured by romance, Suicide Attempt, sort of, Íþróttaálfurinn is in love, Íþróttaálfurinn wants to save him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-20 21:17:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9516611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer
Summary: A short growl came from Glanni when he was set down, his legs folding underneath him as he hooked his chin over the edge of the basket. “Fuck you,” he muttered angrily, looking at the ground. It was too far below them for a safe jump unless you were the damn elf and too low to be a deadly landing. All that would be accomplished would be broken bones and too much pain. “You wanted to talk, sotalk. Ruined a perfectly good-““Suicide,” Íþróttaálfurinn rumbled the word out, an angry flash of his perfectly white teeth. “I ruined a perfectly good suicide.”(Or: Glanni is not happy and Íþróttaálfurinn has trouble using his words.)





	1. Chapter 1

“I just want the world to be kind,” Glanni’s voice almost fell over the edge of the gap, the logical conclusion to the way his toes were hanging off it. “Pranks aren’t the worst things, are they?”

Íþróttaálfurinn was tense, one arm reaching as if he wanted to pluck Glanni off the ledge and drag him back to safety. His hat was askew, one pointed ear exposed as his breathing stuttered. “Glæpur,” he whispered. “Come away from-“

“Why?” 

“Because your life isn’t- I’m-“ Íþróttaálfurinn stuttered, feeling something in his chest shriek in terror with every move the other made. Glanni had stormed out of the outskirts of town, disappearing from view, not even calling out as he left. It had been the first time the villain had ever walked away quietly and it had unsettled Íþróttaálfurinn to his very core.

“You can’t even think of an excuse,” Glanni laughed, turning slightly to look back at him. “Cute, hero. Nice try.”

“Your life is important,” Íþróttaálfurinn tried again.

Glanni laughed again, bitter and broken and angry. “To who? The people in town hate me when I pull pranks and hate me when I’m mentioned and hate me when you find me. You expend so much energy trying to get me to leave, I would have thought you’d be _glad_.”

“Your pranks are dangerous, Glanni,” Íþróttaálfurinn said it without thinking and winced when the words came from his mouth. “I didn’t mean-“

“You said _exactly_ what you meant,” Glanni shook his head. 

He took a step back towards the edge, the heel of one boot over empty air. If he leaned his weight back on that foot, he would fall. “Heroes always win in the end,” he shrugged. “I guess this is just the end. You win, Íþróttaálfurinn. The villain is going now, the story has reached the point of your triumph and victory. Tell them that I ran off, that you don’t need to fight me again. Tell them they’re safe,” he closed his eyes, his entire body trembling. “Tell yourself that this is what you needed.”

“I am not going to tell myself a lie,” Íþróttaálfurinn took a cautious step forward, being careful not to make any noise as he moved. “A world without you in it is not something I want, Glanni.”

“I think that’s the first time you’ve said my name,” Glanni whispered, his chest rising slowly. 

Íþróttaálfurinn shook his head, ignoring the useless part of the gesture. Glanni couldn’t see it, it didn’t matter if he moved his head or not. “I have said it before,” he risked another step forward. If he could just move another few feet without Glanni noticing, he could grab him away from the ledge. If he could grab him, he could hold him still while he made him aware of how much he meant to Íþróttaálfurinn.

He just needed to be able to reach the man before anything else happened.

“And I will say it again,” he continued, lowering his voice to mimic still being a greater distance away. “There are very few who know how I feel about you, Glanni.”

“What, is hatred that easy to hide? Wonders will never cease; the children and adults of this town have to be told how much you despise me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Íþróttaálfurinn moved a few more inches, stretching out his fingers experimentally. Still not close enough, another eight inches and he could grab him, pull him away from the cliff he stood on. “I really don’t-“

“Liar.”

“I cannot lie,” Íþróttaálfurinn inched forward again, biting nervously at his bottom lip. “Not about this and not to you. If you had asked, I would have had to tell you everything. I can’t lie to you, Glanni, haven’t you noticed?” he eyed the distance between his hand and Glanni’s arm. His hands weren’t waving about as he talked for once and it made something curl up in his gut. It was a sense of fear, every possible danger flying through his mind. 

Glanni had been pushed too far away in Íþróttaálfurinn’s attempts to keep from telling him everything he wanted with him.

The elf’s hand curled around Glanni’s upper arm, dragging him off the edge and into Íþróttaálfurinn’s hold, his other arm around his waist. “You and I need to talk,” he said gently, letting Glanni struggle for a moment before pulling him close. It was like hugging a cat, the villain’s arms pushing uselessly at his shoulders and his legs kicking when Íþróttaálfurinn pulled him off the ground entirely.

“Let me _go!_ ” Glanni hissed, still struggling against him as he turned away from the cliff and headed towards where his balloon was anchored. “Goddamnit, Íþróttaálfurinn, fucking let me go!”

There may have been some magic used to get them there a little faster.

Íþróttaálfurinn wasn’t going to admit to it.

“No,” Íþróttaálfurinn hopped into the basket, still holding onto Glanni as he let it rise a little. Just enough to discourage jumping. It was a pre-emptive measure and he hoped it was something unnecessary. The look in Glanni’s eyes, just a few minutes before, told him that was absolutely necessary. “You and I need to talk.”

A short growl came from Glanni when he was set down, his legs folding underneath him as he hooked his chin over the edge of the basket. “Fuck you,” he muttered angrily, looking at the ground. It was too far below them for a safe jump unless you were the damn elf and too low to be a deadly landing. All that would be accomplished would be broken bones and too much pain. “You wanted to talk, so _talk_. Ruined a perfectly good-“

“Suicide,” Íþróttaálfurinn rumbled the word out, an angry flash of his perfectly white teeth. “I ruined a perfectly good suicide.”

“…I was going to say death scene,” Glanni shrugged almost carelessly. “You know how dramatic I like being. Always has been the best part of me, especially when nothing else is worth anything. You and I both know I’m absolutely worthless. As a villain, I lack follow-through and punch. As a person, I have no redeeming qualities. You and I and the entire _town_ know that. Collective knowledge, no one has to remember what I was like when I die because no one will want to.”

Íþróttaálfurinn covered his face with both hands, grumbling in what sounded almost like a song-language. 

“Sorry, what was that?” 

“I said,” Íþróttaálfurinn looked up to meet Glanni’s gaze. “That I wished I had found you sooner in your life.”

Glanni snickered and the elf winced at how empty it sounded. He was pretending not to be anything other than himself again and it _hurt_. “There is nothing in this world or the next that would keep me from being a villain,” he grinned. “I’m sorry I can’t be your next social project.”

“Quit pretending,” Íþróttaálfurinn reached over and took Glanni’s hands in his own. The man’s face fell immediately and he looked…Broken. “I know it will not fix you, nothing I can say will. Fixing the pain you carry, that requires time and people who care about you. I can provide one of those things right now,” his face twisted, nervous and unwilling to try and hide it. “And the other will come after it.”

“What, so you care about me now?” Glanni twitched. “Don’t- Don’t _make fun of me,_ ” he hissed out. “No one _in this town_ cares whether I live _or die!_ ”

Íþróttaálfurinn moved, sudden and sharp.

When they had resettled, Glanni was in his lap, the elf’s lips pressed against his, one hand on the back of the man’s head and the other was on his waist. It stayed in a respectable place, just tight enough to tell Glanni that he wasn’t going anywhere, a warm weight against him through the ridiculous catsuit he wore.

Glanni pulled back first, blinking a couple of times as he tried to say something.

“I have never been…” Íþróttaálfurinn said after a moment. “Good with words. Especially not in the language spoken here. Everything I say must translate from Elvish before it leaves my head. Even before I had to speak in other languages, I was never the best with my words. Actions are easier, energy gets used and I can move and then it becomes explicitly clear what it is that I want.”

“You-“

“Care very much about you,” Íþróttaálfurinn swallowed nervously, adjusting his hold so that Glanni could leave his lap if he wanted to. “To the point that it would make me break if you had taken that fall back there.”

“I can’t-“

“I am not expecting anything now,” Íþróttaálfurinn shook his head, his fingers feather-light on Glanni’s knee for a moment. “I know that emotions are not such a driving force in humans, especially when there is little room in your chest for anything but the emptying sadness you are burdened with right now. All I ask is that, one day, you realize you are not worthless.”

He slid Glanni gently out of his lap, standing up to let air out of the balloon and lower them back down. 

“I will be your friend,” he spoke quietly. “Even if nothing ever comes out of it other than a friendship. You can always count on me to be your friend, first and foremost.”

Glanni looked up at him, something vulnerable in his eyes as he watched Íþróttaálfurinn. “Are…” he was trembling again. “Are all elves this selfless? You just told me you’re in _love with me._ At least, I _think_ that’s what you’re saying. And you’re really going to sit there and tell me that is doesn’t matter, you’ll _help me_ as I try to _get better_ and you’ll _care about me_ without expecting anything?” he leaned back on his hands. “Even if I _never_ love you back?”

“Yes,” Íþróttaálfurinn nodded, a small smile on his face. “Your recovery and happiness are more important than anything I feel.”

“Don’t _take it off the table,_ ” Glanni nearly shrieked the words out, his eyes wide. “I only _just_ discovered it was even an _option!_ ”

“…What?”

“You never gave me any indication that it was an _option_ that I could _choose,_ ” Glanni waved wildly. He looked more alive than he had in a while, suddenly angry and animated. It made Íþróttaálfurinn’s heart beat wildly. “You _fucker,_ we could have been _making out_ for _ages_ by now if you had just _said something-_ Except you’re bad with words, so that wouldn’t have even _worked!_ ”

He let out a gentle screech and flopped onto his back, covering his face.

“Are you alright?” Íþróttaálfurinn leaned over, an eyebrow raised as he looked down at Glanni.

“Just-“ Glanni peeked out from between his fingers. “…You’re right. Just wait for me, alright?”

“Wait for you?”

“You said help and people who care for me and time,” Glanni shrugged as best he could from his current position. “Give me a _year_. Wait for me for a year. I’ll know if I can do this then, you damn health-freak.”

Íþróttaálfurinn held out a hand, watching in fascination as Glanni took it and curled their fingers together. “I can wait a year.”


	2. A Year Later

It had been a while.

Not a year to the day but Glanni was still nervous. He had a bottle of anti-anxiety meds in his bag and a strict warning to behave himself.

He wanted to scream. 

Brushing a hand down the front of his outfit, he shook his head, taking a deep breath. No screaming, not when he was this close to actually getting what he wanted. Íþróttaálfurinn had said he’d wait a year, it was three hundred and seventy-eight days since he’d stood at the edge of a cliff and then been dragged away by an elf who didn’t know how to use his words.

The smile Glanni could feel forming on his face was stupid and dopey, he knew it was.

Taking another deep breath, he walked into the town he had left just over a year before. He’d had to find a new town, where no one knew him, to find the help he’d needed. No one here would have believed him, would have listened calmly and kindly and suggested ways for him to help himself. Therapy had helped, he decided as he clutched the strap of his bag tightly.

There was still that shadow in his mind, he didn’t think it would ever leave, but he could speak louder than it now.

It wasn’t going to stop him.

The trip from where he lived, actually lived, in an apartment and everything, was a single bus and about forty minutes of bouncing his leg impatiently. Heels clacking on the ground, he walked the still-familiar path towards the park and the community garden, hoping to find someone there who could tell him where his stupid elf was.

He hoped he looked good enough, soft enough, for Íþróttaálfurinn to want to touch him in any sort of way.

The jeans were worn in, a little, softer than brand new but still good. Tapered around his legs and black, he would never get rid of black in his wardrobe. The sweater was something new, something he was trying. He’d seen it in the store and he’d bought it because it was the same golden-brown color as the vest his elf had worn, last time they’d seen each other.

Buying things.

He shook his head slowly, rolling his eyes. How had he changed that much?

Glanni hitched the bag up his shoulder a little more, looking around as he walked. The children were likely with him, wherever he was, and he smiled a little at the mental image of it. It stood against everything he was for, that stupid garden of theirs, but the thought was a good one. Íþróttaálfurinn chasing around after kids who were trying to pull pranks like Glanni. 

That was definitely a thought for another day, he decided as he examined the mental image for a moment before pushing it aside.

“Hello, Glanni!” Someone called.

For a moment, Glanni froze in his tracks, knuckles going white where he held onto his bag. “Ah,”

It was the pink girl. Stolla? Stella? He remembered that it started with an ‘S’, but not much more than that. Her hair was still pink and her dress was still pink but her matching pink shoes were gone. Her toes wiggled on the dirt path that led to the garden. 

“I didn’t know you were back!” she was cheerful, why was she so cheerful, the last time they had seen each other had been when he’d been doing something…Not good. To the town and ostensibly to her. “Are you looking for Íþróttaálfurinn?”

“…Yes?”

She grinned at him and held out a hand, taking his with it and skipping alongside him. Her voice continued, talking about something to do with the garden and he could barely focus on the words she was saying. It was all very strange, Glanni decided, one hand still on his bag. He’d never been welcomed into town, no one had ever really been happy about him being somewhere before. Glanni managed to turn his attention back to her in time to hear, “And Íþróttaálfurinn mentioned something about you being back, maybe! So we’ve been kind of…”

Her demeanor changed, no longer inexhaustibly cheerful. “Well…”

“Well what?” Glanni hesitated, then gently swung their joined hands back and forth. It seemed to be the right thing to do because she smiled at him again. “Kind of what?”

“We made a space in the garden for you. We didn’t know what you’d want to plant in it and we didn’t even know if you _would_ want to plant something in it,” her brown eyes met his for a moment, her cheeks an embarrassed, pink color to match the rest of her. “I made a sign for you, because it’s yours.”

“…Mine?”

“You’re a part of our town,” she reasoned. “Everyone who is part of the town has a space in the garden.”

Before he could say anything to that, she perked up and laughed. “Oh!” she laughed again, dropping his hand and running off. He followed her movements for a moment and stopped cold when he saw him.

Íþróttaálfurinn.

His hat was off, tucked into his vest, and his hair was mussed from working in the garden. The warm, golden color of his hair was set against the somehow more sun-touched color of his skin and it made a very lovely picture. The pink girl ran to his side, already gesturing wildly as she spoke to him and Íþróttaálfurinn looked up.

Their eyes met and Glanni shivered, a nervous smile twisting his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so nervous about willingly coming back to someone.  
Íþróttaálfurinn smiled at the girl, patting her shoulder gently and walking around her, watching as she ran off to where the rest of her group of friends was. It only took a few moments for them to be standing next to each other and Glanni breathed slowly, in and out, when Íþróttaálfurinn stood in front of him. “You look good, Glanni,” was the first thing the elf said to him.

“I always look good,” was the automatic response. Glanni winced after he said it, closing his eyes. “That’s…Not exactly-“

“You do, you’re right,” Íþróttaálfurinn’s smile was gentle, one hand reaching out to brush a finger over the sweater the man wore. “But this is a surprise. I would have thought more black clothing or even pink would be what you would have chosen. But you chose this,” his eyes twinkled and the effect was charming, damn it. Glanni leaned in a little, chasing the warmth of his hand before making a noise and pulling back. “This is my color. This is a color I wear often.”

“…I know.”

“Is that why you chose it?” Íþróttaálfurinn met his eyes, still smiling. “It is good to see you, Glanni. I missed you.”

Glanni took another deep breath, pushing down on the nervous tremble of fear in his chest. “A year ago, just about, you and I talked. Bad day for me, ended in a revelation for both of us, we made a deal. ‘Wait for me for a year’, sound familiar?”

“That day is imprinted in my memory,” Íþróttaálfurinn’s voice was soft for once, his hands reaching out to steady him, curled around his elbows. “You are shaking.”

“I wanted to bring you my answer,” Glanni muttered.

Íþróttaálfurinn was suddenly very still, his blue eyes pinned on Glanni’s face. After a moment, he nodded, his hands staying exactly where they were, like he didn’t dare move them. “Yes?”

“Yes,” Glanni nodded, just once. “You stupidly health-obsessed elf, yes.”

“Calling names,” Íþróttaálfurinn laughed a little, his mustache twitching. “That earns you a few minutes penalty.”

Glanni rolled his eyes and ducked down, hesitating enough to allow him to pull back before he pressed their lips together. “Your jokes haven’t gotten any better,” he muttered when they pulled apart, their foreheads pressed together. “And now I am definitely sure I made the right choice.”

Íþróttaálfurinn’s hands were still so warm when they pressed against his back, against his waist and over where his heart was. “You have made me very happy,” he whispered, kissing Glanni again. “I-“ his words escaped him and it was only a moment before he pressed closer again and again, peppering Glanni’s face with kisses.

“Your words are failing you again?”

“They always do,” Íþróttaálfurinn muttered. “I am working on it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end! Glanni and Íþróttaálfurinn, you actually needed a happy ending. 
> 
> Although, my brain kept trying to have it be that Glanni returns and Íþróttaálfurinn is either gone or dead. Be thankful that I wanted this story to be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm just going to post this and flee into the fucking night again. Have some hurt/comfort-ish GlannIthro because there isn't enough of it in the fandom. Kink and BDSM for these two is all well and good but I just wanted something a little softer for them.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
